Your Type
by in48frames
Summary: In which Peggy is definitely not going to spill any secrets while drunk but she does anyway. Cartinelli.
**A/N:** _I'm not the type of girl for you and I'm not going to pretend that I'm the type of girl you call more than a friend! This is Old News but I couldn't get this scene (end of 1x03) out of my head so I wrote it out. Title and lyrics from Your Type by Carly Rae Jepsen. It's gay._

* * *

" _Do you still have that Schnapps?"_

" _Let me get this jerk his refill and then I'll clock out."_

" _I think that 'jerk' quite fancies you."_

xxx

By the time they made it back to Angie's room, Peggy had managed to dry her eyes and cut out the snivelling. She hated to cry, especially in front of other people, and while it was more tolerable with Angie than with anyone else, it was still awful.

But Angie had linked their arms along the way, telling Peggy about her terrible customers, and Peggy was really looking forward to that Schnapps.

Once inside the room, Angie went straight for the bottle and glasses while Peggy turned the radio on low and removed her blazer, draping it over the back of a chair.

"D'you wanna play cards?" Angie asked, and Peggy realized she had no idea how this whole "get drunk with your best girlfriend" thing worked.

"Sure," she said, sitting primly on the edge of Angie's bed, until Angie clambered onto the bed with the bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, and a pack of cards clamped between her teeth. When she'd set everything down, she tugged on Peggy's arm, pulling her fully onto the bed, and they sat cross-legged with the supplies between them.

Angie opened the bottle and poured two generous drinks, a little too eager as she managed to spill on the blanket twice before handing Peggy her drink with an earnest excitement. "What are we drinking to?"

"Hmm," Peggy said, looking into her glass. She didn't want to toast to Krzeminski, as callous as that made her feel. "How about, to better days?"

Angie caught her eye when she looked up, holding her gaze for a moment and then lifting her glass. "Cheers to that." They clinked their glasses and drank, each taking what was probably too long a swallow, but what was the point of Schnapps if not to drink it far too quickly and end up sick as a dog?

Picking up the pack of cards with one hand, her drink in the other, Angie dumped all 52 out on the bed. "Whatcha wanna play?"

"Why don't you teach me something?" It seemed like a good idea when she said it, but Angie lit up like a neon sign and Peggy had to drain the rest of her glass to alleviate the sudden pressure on her chest. She tried to pay attention as she poured another drink and Angie told her all about the game she and her cousins made up as kids, but the spark in Angie's eyes was distracting.

She was so endearing, talking fast and gesturing even as she pressed the deck back into a block and started to shuffle, and even when Peggy tried to keep her eyes on the deck, on the piles Angie was making on the bed, she couldn't help glancing up again and again, Angie's directions going in one ear and out the other.

"Think you got it?"

"For sure," Peggy said, draining her glass again and setting it on the bed so she could pick up her hand. Angie flipped a card face-up from one of the stacks on the bed, then put one of her own cards down on top of it, and Peggy blinked. After a second, Angie reached out and tipped Peggy's cards toward her so she could see their faces, and plucked one out, setting on top of her own and then putting down another card.

It was obvious enough that the cards had to be sequential, so Peggy picked out one that fit and laid it down, looking up to Angie for approval. She grinned and nodded, and Peggy got distracted again, putting her cards down (face-up) to fill her glass.

"You like that stuff, huh Peg?"

Peggy glanced at the bottle, realizing that Angie was still on her first pour, and topped up her glass for her. They made it through a few hands, Peggy playing on instinct rather than any instructions Angie had given, until Peggy decided her thoughts had grown too fuzzy and dropped her cards scattered over the playing field and lay back on the bed.

Staring at the ceiling was good, didn't give her any of the strange sensations Angie's face did, but a minute later Angie was lying on her belly at her side and Peggy realized that close proximity did it even if she didn't look at her.

She sighed loudly, which turned out to be a mistake as Angie set her free hand on Peggy's stomach, tapping each finger in turn, her drink in her other hand.

"What's up, Peg?"

"Nothing," Peggy said, and she didn't realize her hand was moving until it wrapped around Angie's hand, their palms together. "Um, what's up with you?"

"You think alcohol makes people more honest?" She was talking a bit too loudly, and Peggy said "shh" softly, lifting her hand to touch Angie's cheek before letting it fall to rest on her hand again.

"Some people, certainly," Peggy said. "Not me."

"Why, you immune?" She was still too loud, but Peggy concentrated on levering herself up to sit against the wall, taking another gulp of the sickeningly sweet liqueur.

"Not immune. Just good at secrets." The downside of sitting up was she had to see Angie's face again, and as she donned an exaggerated pout, that was a problem.

"I really wish you were less good at secrets," Angie said, still on her belly but shifting further up the bed so she could keep her hand on Peggy's leg. Then, she pulled herself forward, resting her forearm on Peggy's thigh and her chin on top of that. "I hate secrets," she said morosely, staring across Peggy's lap, and Peggy brought her free hand up to the back of Angie's head, petting her hair.

"I'm sorry," Peggy said. "It's the only way I know to be."

"Aw, it's not your fault, Peg." She turned her face, resting her cheek on her arm and looking up at Peggy, and it was getting hard to take a full breath. "I know that. I wasn't trying to make you feel lousy."

Peggy's hand came to rest on Angie's back, and she squeezed her eyes shut, tipping her head back to rest against the wall. "Most of my secrets have nothing to do with you, anyway." She didn't realize what a terrible thing that was to say until Angie was sitting up, moving all the way to the other end of the bed and wrapping her arms around her legs.

" _Most?_ " she said, and Peggy could have kicked herself.

"I mean…" Peggy looked around frantically for the bottle, grabbing it and taking a slug straight from the mouth. "I didn't mean that I… that wasn't what I meant."

"You meant to say that _none_ of your secrets are about me," Angie said, her eyes dark and vulnerable. "Right?"

Peggy looked away, her free hand going up to rub at her temple, and took another drink from the bottle. There was a difference between selectively withholding the truth and out-and-out lying. _Just lie_ , she thought. _It will be better if you lie. Just lie!_

"Peggy," Angie said brokenly, "please."

"We've had too much to drink," Peggy muttered. "We aren't in our best… we should just talk tomorrow."

"No," Angie said, pressing her forehead to her knee. "If you don't tell me the truth now, we won't be talking tomorrow."

"Angie…"

"I've been patient, Peg. I… just tell me."

Peggy swallowed hard. If she told her, she could lose her. If she didn't, she _would_ lose her. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to lie. Here goes. "Do you remember what I said tonight about the man at the automat?"

"Are you changing the subject?!" Angie looked up, incredulous.

"No. Do you remember?"

She stared for a second, then blinked a few times, thinking. "That he 'fancied' me? Which, by the way, he did not."

Peggy laughed slightly, more a rush of breath than anything. "I know."

"So…" Angie was still staring. "You just said it to be nice? That's not a secret, Peg."

"No. What I said was true."

"Wha—"

"Just not about him."

Silence. Staring. Peggy didn't look, watching her from the corner of her eye, jaw tight, fists clenched. After a moment, she closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing.

"I don't… think I understand," Angie said eventually. "Or… what I think I understand… can't be what you mean."

No. Of course not. Peggy's mouth twisted up into a sour smile and she pushed herself to the edge of the bed, planting her feet on the floor and leaning on her hands. "Okay," she said quietly. "You don't understand. Let's just leave it at that." Standing up, she started for the door, and heard Angie scramble off the bed behind her. Before she could get halfway across the room, Angie's hand was on her arm, tugging her back.

"Peg!"

Peggy turned, shaking her off and putting her hands up in front of her. "Please. I can't say it any clearer."

Angie stayed where she was, wringing her hands together, and Peggy let her hands fall to her sides, her chest physically aching at the distress on Angie's face.

Then Angie took a step forward, tipping her chin up and pressing her lips to Peggy's, and Peggy inhaled through her nose in surprise, her hands coming up automatically to cup Angie's jaw. She was kissing her back even before her brain had caught up to the situation, knowing instinctively that if she hesitated Angie would back away, and then her brain _did_ and she inhaled again, closing her eyes and letting her hands slip through Angie's hair to the back of her head.

She was intent, afraid to pause or take her time, afraid that if she allowed any space between their lips this moment would end, the kiss everything she'd been aching for even as her stomach twisted with the fear that it wasn't real.

When Angie did pull away it was only an inch, their foreheads touching as Angie's fingers curled in the material of Peggy's blouse, and she said, "Did I get that right?"

As if she could reply to that. As if she could speak at all. Instead, she kissed her again, gently, and then again, and then Angie took her hand and led her back to the bed, sitting down on the edge and tugging Peggy down to sit beside her.

"You fancy me," Angie said, bumping her shoulder against Peggy's, and Peggy nodded, looking down and bringing their linked hands into her lap.

"I do," she said quietly. "Is that okay?"

"I'm so happy I could burst. Does that answer your question?"

" _Really?_ " Peggy asked, with a sidelong stare.

"I guess I thought I was dreamin', thinkin' a girl like you could ever… Sometimes it was hard to believe we were even friends. You're just so…" She paused, shaking her head. "Everything. Sometimes it's hard to look at you."

Peggy closed her eyes again, leaning her head to rest against Angie's, and said, "That's just how I feel about you."

"I have trouble believing that," Angie said on a whisper, "but am I ever glad."

Switching Angie's hand into her other one, Peggy slipped her arm around Angie's waist, tugging Angie into her side and kissing her. Both twisted at the waist, their chests pressed together, Peggy's fingers splayed at the small of Angie's back, keeping her close. Angie's hand came up to Peggy's face and Peggy was still trying to capture the moment in her mind, memorize every touch.

"Where do we go from here?" Peggy asked when they were once again mingling breaths, their foreheads together.

"It's another secret for your rosters, I'm afraid."

Peggy smiled. "I could use a good secret."

"I'm a good secret?" Angie asked, like she didn't know. "That's a step up, ain't it? I'm happy to be your secret, as long as I'm a good one."

"It is a step up, yes," Peggy said, her arm curling the rest of the way around Angie's waist, her hand nestling in the curve of Angie's side, "and you are a good secret. The best one I've got."

Angie moved back a bit, enough that she could see Peggy's face, and dropped one hand to rest on Peggy's leg, just an inch or two higher than her knee. Peggy laid her hand on top, her fingers wrapping around the side of Angie's hand, and Angie's thumb stroked over the inside of her wrist.

"Y'ever fancied a girl before?" Angie asked, serious now, but still Peggy couldn't help but smile.

"Hmm. Fancied, yes. Never really made it past that point."

"I know I don't really need to say this… I know you're smart enough to figure it out… and I know you're good at secrets. This is a big one. It can be… dangerous."

Sobering up, Peggy nodded, wondering how many different ways she could possibly endanger her very life at one time. As if the job wasn't enough, or the double-cross; now her affection was added to the list. She couldn't regret it, not with Angie sitting there looking at her with those soft eyes, even as her hand tightened around Angie's and she looked down. "We'll be all right, though, won't we?"

"I think so," Angie said softly. "Just gotta be smart about it. Keep it behind closed doors. Sometimes… at first… y'just wanna shout about it."

"Tell everyone." Peggy nodded again. "I've never been the 'tell everyone' sort, I suppose. I would boast about you, though, to anyone who would listen."

Angie smiled, finally, looking up and leaning in to kiss Peggy, and Peggy's wondering turned to how precisely Angie knew so much. She could guess, of course, and just the thought of it made Peggy pull Angie closer, wrapping both her arms around her and toppling them back onto the bed. They shifted around until they were lying properly down the length of the bed, kissing and then just lying in each other's arms.

"Are we still drunk?" Peggy asked, and Angie pretended to think about it.

"Probably," she said. "If we are, you oughta sleep here tonight. Just to be safe."

Peggy could feel her holding her breath, and played along. "Certainly. Who knows what hidden dangers lurk for an inebriated woman on the late-night walk home… to the room next door." Angie hid her face against Peggy's blouse and Peggy smiled, then said, "You will feel the same in the morning, won't you?"

" _I_ will," Angie said. "Will you?"

"I will. I can't tell you how long…" She sighed, her arm cradling Angie's back, and shifted slightly, feeling the way their bodies fit together and how small Angie was, smaller than Peggy, and what a revelation that was, to hold someone like that. More precious, now, in her arms, than ever before.

Lying still, Peggy could feel the alcohol again, just a cottony layer around her thoughts, keeping them from bouncing around much. As she fell into sleep, she thought dreamily of just this—doing this again, existing like this, making this a routine. A tiny corner of heaven. She prayed she could hold onto it.


End file.
